


Last Minute

by nijireiki



Category: Wolverine And The X-Men (Cartoon), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Christian Holidays, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Gen, Holidays, Jewish Character, Jewish Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nijireiki/pseuds/nijireiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby Drake is broke, the holidays are right around the corner, and everyone but him seems to have actually gotten their adult on and done their shopping <em>before</em> Christmas Eve-- especially for their sweeties. What's a guy to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Minute

**Author's Note:**

> _edited and reposted from LiveJournal; originally written for a Secret Santa fic swap in the[Wolverine and the X-Men](http://andthexmen.livejournal.com/) comm._

"So, Logan--"

"Not a chance," the older mutant growled, not even bothering to look up from under the tree at the wrapped gifts marked as his. He rattled a smallish box and frowned. "Damn. _None_ of you took the hint that I was running low on cigars?"

"But--"

"I said no, Bobby."

Iceman sighed, and slumped down in the wingback chair that Hank usually dragged out in front of the fireplace for his own personal use. (Currently, Hank was engaging in his peculiar pre-Christmas ritual of alphabetizing the entire library; it was a quirk carried over from when he'd first started turning blue and couldn't go out much, a way of venting his nervous energy. "Plus," he'd said when Bobby's curiosity finally got the best of him, "what better way to start the new year than with an organized reference section?" Bobby could think of a few, but just smiled and nodded at this answer like it had made sense. Hank was weird like that.)

Wolverine turned and faced Bobby. "Why do you want _my_ advice, anyway?"

Bobby frowned. Sullenly, he admitted, "Everybody else already said no."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"Well-- you've got more experience with women-- and you're so _old_ \--"

Wolverine snorted. "Uh-huh. Best of luck, kiddo." And with that, he went back to sniffing and prodding the gifts under the tree, hoping to smell tobacco, or hear some Cubans rolling around in a humidor. Bobby glared at the back of Logan's head for a minute, blinked, and walked away, toward the stairs.

He didn't look up once as he walked up the stairs, or even bother to turn on the lights in his room while he paced back and forth in the space between his bed and his closet. Not for the first time, Bobby declared to himself how much he hated Christmas. Holidays in _general_ were a battleground between the two sides of his family, but even after the truly unfortunate Frozen Latke Incident of 2006 that had maxed out Hanukkah's potential for disaster, Christmas was the undisputed heavyweight champion of _actually managing_ to get worse every year _after that_. In the dark, he thought about how the day had gone.

First, Bobby'd approached Jean, since she was the only one that he _knew_ knew he'd been crushing on Kitty Pryde. There's no point in trying to keep secrets from a psychic, right?

"It's not _like_ before! It's like... Kitty's a _girl_ now!"

"I'm sure she'll be glad you noticed." Jean had winked and gone back to preparing the fruitcake that everyone was going to _pretend_ to like, and then play hockey with in the Danger Room. Bobby didn't know why Jean bothered every year; it always made her mad, especially when Scott laughed at her struggle to slice the damn thing, but she still made it every year. It wasn't that she was a lousy cook, it's just that the recipe must have been for bricks, because it had turned out the same every time she made it. Still, Jean tried.

" _You're_ a girl. Help me! Tell me what to buy Kitty."

Jean turned away from the gluey mass in her mixing bowl. "Use your head, Bobby. Give Kitty something that shows her how you feel, and how much you care about her. Give her a gift from the heart." She beamed at Bobby's crestfallen expression, and added, "Now, do you want to try the first batch?"

Bobby had backed out of the kitchen so fast he left an ice slick on the linoleum.

The next person he asked was Warren, whose advice was equally useless and frustratingly coded. "An _older_ woman," War had said, raising his eyebrows and lowering his voice conspiratorially, "appreciates something expensive. Something that you had to work hard to get, y'know? Something she can show off." He leaned back on the bench outside the mansion that looked out onto the sea, nearly cuffing Bobby with one of his wings. "Now, _younger_ women? _That_ is another issue altogether."

Bobby replied hastily, "I don't think she's that much older than me." He made a face. "Maybe a little bit. But I've only got, like... ten bucks." Angel winced and hissed and said things like "Sorry, buddy" and "Maybe next year," but they both knew that neither could relate to each other's gift-giving issues; and Bobby knew Warren _really_ hadn't been listening to begin with when Storm came outside in her gardening clothes and Angel sort of... _fell_ straight up into the sky and out of sight.

Storm was carrying her watering can, which was a good sign; you could tell when Ororo was in foul mood when she just conjured up thunderstorms over the tri-state area to water the rhododendrons. Bobby sidled up next to her.

"'Ro?"

"Hmm?" She was distracted. Of course she would be; Christmas would be here soon, and the other X-Men would doubtless be pestering her for snow. Storm had warned him once, in a grave tone, that when he got better at using his powers, people would start to bother him for favors, too, but Bobby'd laughed it off, thinking it was better to keep the others' expectations low.

"We-ell... I was wondering what I should get-- someone-- for Christmas, and. You're so smart and everything. And..."

Ororo beamed, and Bobby felt a twinge of guilt for manipulating the weather witch with compliments, but, _it's not like any of that isn't true,_ he thought.

"Christmas? Christmas," Ororo frowned at some rosebushes for a moment in thought. She turned back to Bobby. "Kitty is Jewish," she said slowly.

"I-- know-- _that_." So much for being discreet. How did she know, anyway? Stupid smart Ororo. "I'm just broke. Who can afford 8 presents? I want to get her something nice, so I don't look like a dork."

Ororo gave him a look that said she _also_ knew he'd probably procrastinated, panicked an entire week, and midnight at the end of Zot Chanukah settled on the much-loathed _Christmas_ for gift-giving, but-- hey, he was exactly as broke as he'd said, too. _It's not like any of the that wasn't true_. ...Touché. Then she shrugged. "Has she said what she wants?"

"No." Bobby pouted. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while Storm silently watered some of the tropical flowers she was so fond of. They weren't doing too well, but considering it was December in upstate New York, they weren't doing too badly, either.

Eventually, Storm said, "Get her something that has to do with one of her hobbies."

"But what if she's got everything she needs already?"

"It's the thought that counts, Robert. Most people prefer a gift that shows you have been paying attention to who they are." With that, Storm waded deeper into the shrubbery and began to explicitly ignore the Iceman. Bobby sighed. He knew better, anyway. The thought counts when you're four years old and a spaghetti portrait is considered a legitimate gift, but when you're an _adult_ wooing an _older woman_ , well--! Hunched over, Bobby made his way inside.

The first person he met up with was Rogue. She seemed startled to see him, like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't, and in fact, had rapidly hid a hammer in her right hand and... something else in her left hand behind her back. Bobby couldn't bother himself to care.

"Hey, Rogue. Say I liked a girl." Rogue managed to peer down her nose at him from two inches below his eyeline, _and_ raise an eyebrow in superiority, all while hiding something she clearly wasn't supposed to have behind her back. It was an impressive feat. "Alright, it's Kitty!" Did _everybody_ know? "What should I get her for Christmas?"

"Yer cuttin' it mighty close, aren'tcha? Christmas Eve 'n'all." Rogue sighed when she saw Bobby's expression. "Calm down, y'look like yer fittin' t'vomit. If it was me, Ah reckon Ah'd get'er some music or somethin'. Like an iTunes kinda thang. Gift cards're the gift that keeps on givin', sugah."

"...Kitty ...doesn't exactly ... _pay_ for her music, Rogue."

"Ah. AH. Ah see. Ummmm. Have ya tried th'department store? Like, for shoes 'n' such." Bobby stared blankly. "Kitty likes to dance, dummy. That wears out shoes somethin' quick."

"No, I-- I tried that already." The department store had been a disaster. Bobby wouldn't be able to show his face in PCJenny's for at least a year. After a misunderstanding where a saleswoman had sprayed some kind of fragrance into his eyes, Bobby had iced the entire perfume counter and ruined thousands of dollars worth of stock. Really, Bobby doubted he'd ever be _welcomed_ back, but it was possible that in a year's time there'd be some new part-timers who wouldn't recognize him right away. Besides, if he could only get 20 feet into the store before ruining something, Bobby figured he would screw up something as important and mysterious as girls' shoes.

"Well, Ah can't help you. Gift cards. Ah got everyone gift cards, an' you keep yer mouth shut about it, y'hear? Don't ruin th'surprise."

Bobby stared. Rogue had shifted her body a bit when she was talking to him, and now he could see what she'd had behind her back.

" _Mistletoe?_ What are you doing with mistletoe outside of Logan's bedroom?"

"You shut yer mouth, Bobby Drake, or Ah'll knock all th'teeth out of it!" Rogue didn't blush, but she did sort of hiss when she was really furious, so Bobby held up his hands, palms front, in a gesture of peace, and crept down the hallway as quietly as he possibly could.

Bobby wandered into the dining room, where Scott, Kurt, and Forge were eating an early lunch of soup. Actually, Forge was eating. Kurt and Scott were fuming and nursing some minor wounds, but ignorance is bliss, so Bobby decided not to ask. He had enough problems. Besides, his stomach was doing enough flip-flops already, so he wasn't even tempted by the oyster crackers he usually munched on straight out of the bag (much to Forge's chagrin).

"Hey, Bobby-O!" Forge was cheerful today (Bobby didn't know it, but Forge had recently figured out how to program free will into, essentially, any electronic device. It was a thrilling and terrifying discovery when the toaster had chased him, but considering it was a step forward For Science, Forge was willing to cross the bridge of ethics re:cognizance and "inanimate" objects when he got to it. Scott had been less pleased when the refrigerator door tried to trap him inside it, and had been doubly upset when Kurt sabred the microwave when it pounced.)

"Hey, guys. Uh, listen. I... I need some advice."

"What kind of advice?" Still cheery, Forge didn't notice the glance Scott and Kurt shared that cemented their bond as Team Against Whatever Forge Says. Bobby noticed, but couldn't process what the look meant. The grown-ups were being difficult today, and if they weren't helping him, he didn't care what they were doing, honestly.

"If I, say, was to be considering maybe purchasing or getting a gift or something for a certain someone, who, let's say, it's a _girl_ , and it was for Christmas-- Christmas- _ish_ , what would you recommend?"

Forge didn't even pretend to wait a minute to think. "Well, _I_ got Kitty an advanced programming book, so don't you give her the same thing. Then it'll look like I copied you."

Bobby made little indignant huffing noises while Scott and Kurt wheeled around so they were both facing Forge.

"Really? You sure you don't want to give Kitty a _sentient waffle iron_ , Bobby?"

"Or maybe a _possessed coffeemaker?_ "

"Possibly a _carnivorous bread machine_ , or an _evil stand mixer?_ GIRLS LOVE THAT STUFF, BOBBY."

"THINK ABOUT IT, FORGE COULD REALLY _HOOK YOU UP_."

"Scott, you're overreacting! Jean will be fine, it's not like the fruitcake could be any worse--" Forge yelped and dodged flying silverware. "It was for science!!"

Realizing he wasn't going to get any helpful advice, Bobby walked directly over to the oyster crackers, grabbed the entire 2lb surplus-sized bag, and headed off somewhere to be alone. _Where would no one look for me?_ Bobby wondered. _Where is the most excellent place for taking a nap in the X-Mansion?_ He headed for the library.

Only to find that the room wasn't as empty as he thought it was. There was a distinct and noisy rustling coming from a large pile of carefully non-denominational wrapping paper spilling over the front and sides of the large desk Hank checked out books from. Bobby crunched on a fistful of crackers nonchalantly. No point in being hungry if a Wrapping Paper Monster attacked him on Christmas Eve; in fact, it would make a pretty cool epitaph. Truly felled by the holidays. Plus, he wouldn't have to buy Kitty a present! Win-win.

"Bobby Drake, I've just vacuumed in here, and will you please respect the clearly posted signs stating 'No Eating' while in the library?"

"Uhh. Hank?"

"Yes, young Robert?" The multicolored papers parted into two, smaller, mountains of festivity. The Beast smiled his toothy smile and rubbed his furry blue hands together. "You have a line of inquiry to pursue? Be quick, though. A scholar's work is never done!" While Hank chuckled at his own joke, Bobby glanced at the gifts Hank was wrapping: books, books, book covers, books. A Tinder e-book reader (Bobby's heart sank when he realized that not only was that the perfect gift for Kitty, he could _never in a million years_ afford it). Thick looking periodicals and... more books.

Bobby looked back up into Hank's beaming face.

"...Nevermind, Hank."

And that was when Bobby had turned to Logan for help, and been shut down without hesitation. He sighed and cricked his neck. Bobby figured he might as well get into bed and lay down for a little bit, just to get his energy back up; but he doubted he'd be able to sleep at all that night. Bobby was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The 25th arrived too soon. Bobby had woken up ungodly early, like when he was a little kid, but unlike all those years ago, he'd needed caffeine to stay awake. Two 2L bottles of Diet Chug and a hastily improvised gift later, it was officially Christmas Morning. All the rituals were observed: Kurt was bone-tired from attending midnight mass and Rogue was tired since he'd dragged her along, Logan was antsy as all get-out, Warren and Ororo were busy pretending they weren't dating, and Scott had to laser through the fruitcake of a very rumpled looking Jean Grey. She'd slept on the sofa every Christmas since she'd moved into the X-Mansion to stop the other students from opening their gifts early. Forge had taken to calling Jean the "X-Men's mother hen" whenever she was out of earshot, but both of them knew it was just teasing. It seemed like Jean had found the Decepticon kitchen appliances fiasco more funny than anything else, so the atmosphere in the living room was relatively calm.

Gathered around the huge really-real Christmas tree (Bobby's parents had been using a plastic one for years next to the plastic menorah-- there were a _wide_ variety of Winter Incidents in the Bass-Drake house), everyone began opening their presents, oohing and ahhing and thanking the giver when appropriate. Logan had gotten the cigars he wanted-- Hank had cleverly filled the giftbox with mothballs so Wolverine couldn't sniff them out, and packaged them with a book on Canadian history. Jean had gotten a set of photo frames from Scott, and at least 3 different holiday cookbooks. Kurt had bought Forge a set of lederhosen, which resulted in raucous bursts of laughter from that corner of the room. Apparently, abject humiliation made up for turning the entire kitchen into a hellish cutscene from "The Brave Little Toaster." But Bobby wasn't paying attention to anybody else's gifts. Bobby was barely paying attention to his own presents: a lumpy sweater, a day planner he suspected was from Hank, a video game whose title he barely registered before forgetting it in his anxiety. When was Kitty coming downstairs?

She'd slept late. Kitty descended the stairs in a flannel pajama set sometime around noon. Bobby felt himself sweating and had a sudden urge to use the toilet. He ducked behind the sofa. Minutes passed that felt like hours. Hours passed that felt like days. Bobby was surrounded by a little pile of snowflakes from his sweat freezing around him. He would have stayed back there, too, hoping everyone would forget this stupid holiday, and he could be invisible, and, guys, you can just return the video game, it's okay if we pretend today never happened--

"Hey there, stranger! Missed you at lunch." Good God, it was sundown already. _How long have I been sitting back here??_

He meant to say something witty, or funny, like "Missed _you_ at _breakfast_ , slowpoke," or "Guess what? Chicken butt" (an oldie, but a goodie), or even "I wasn't hungry," but Bobby couldn't work up the nerve. Instead, he blurted out in one breath, "MerryChristmasKitty," Bobby had been gripping the small, wrapped box so hard he had to unstick his fingers from the frost that had crept over the paper. It was actually kind of devastating, since really, Bobby frosting something he'd been holding was the equivalent of handing someone a damp paper from sweaty palms. "Uh-- uh-- THISISFORYOU."

Kitty eyed the Santa covered wrapping paper suspiciously. Bobby had the sudden realization that he should've borrowed from Hank, but that was hindsight for you. "You know I'm _Jewish,_ right?" Kitty quirked one eyebrow, but there was more mischief and curiosity in her expression than sarcasm. After another microeternity, Kitty plucked to box from Bobby's thrust-out hand.

"Well-- the economy and all-- and one present on my budget--" Bobby held his breath as Kitty snorted (making the same face Ororo had earlier-- how did every girl he knew know how to make this face?) and shook the box. _Hard_. "What if that had been a snowglobe or something, you would have broken iiiit." Bobby realized that the low moan had, in fact, come from him.

Kitty stuck out her tongue. "Don't be such a _baby_ , I know what I'm doing." She began to rip open the paper when Bobby interrupted her again.

"Ahh--! Not-- here. Someplace private. Trust me." _Shut up! Shut UP!_ Bobby internally (thank God) shouted at himself. The ( _only a little bit!_ ) older girl rolled her eyes and scoffed.

" _Fine._ We'll go into the library. No one's there today, Hank would flip if anyone messed up his books."

Actually, Hank had taken to locking the library doors after his annual labor of love starting about 3 years ago when Bobby and Warren had thought it would be _totally sweet_ to play Mutant Tag (a spinoff of laser tag Bobby was particularly proud of inventing) in the empty library. (As the Beast lamented later, "NO ONE RESPECTS WHAT I DO AROUND HERE! YOU TAKE THE DEWEY DECIMAL SYSTEM FOR GRANTED!" Warren paid for the damages, but Hank never let either of them be in the library alone after that.) Locks, however, had never stopped Kitty before, and they weren't going to start now, and too soon, Bobby found himself alone, in the dark, with a _girl_ , who smelled nice, and was so pretty, and who could totally kick his ass, or worse, laugh at the gift he'd finally, _finally_ settled on. For once, it wasn't a joke.

"Sure is... dark in here." _No duh, Captain Obvious._ Bobby mentally slapped himself in the back of the head. Suddenly, there was a blinding flare of light from one of the windowseats. Kitty had turned on one of the track lights, and Bobby hadn't even noticed she'd left his side. "Yup, sure does get dark early this time of year!"

Kitty looked at Bobby quizzically, her head angled slightly to one side. "Are you okay? You're totally out of it."

Bobby laughed nervously. "...No snow this Christmas, huh?"

"Nope. Ororo's been dropping hints for weeks that she wanted a new set of gardening gloves, and Warren got her some fancy emerald earrings instead. What a doofus."

Kitty had been slowly making her way back towards Bobby since she turned on the lamp. Bobby had stood stock still. He couldn't tell if he'd frozen or not, since he'd stopped breathing for the moment. She was close enough to touch. If he reached out he could practically hug her-- "So... can I open it _now?_ "

Bobby inhaled and felt incredibly light-headed. _Oh. Right. Gotta breathe. Guess I_ wasn't _iced up._ "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead," Bobby managed to choke out.

Kitty peeled back the garish red and green wrapping paper, and undid the flaps on the plain cardboard box. She stopped and looked up at him. "Are you _sure_ you want to give me a gift _in private._ "

"Just do it fast, like a band-aid." Bobby scrunched his eyes closed in anticipation. He couldn't stand to see her laugh at him, or be disappointed, or disgusted.

It was quiet enough in the library that Bobby could hear Kitty finish opening the cardboard box and fish out the tissue paper. He heard her catch her breath. "Oh, Bobby--"

He flinched when he felt her hand on his arm, but it startled him into opening his eyes. _OH. MY. GOD._ Kitty was crying. "I'M SO SORRY! I'm so sorry, Kitty, I didn't mean to--"

She hugged him. A full-body hug, too, not the kind you give a guy friend with slaps on the back, or the kind you give your mom where you just kind of lean your upper half in. Their bodies were touching along their full length, and Bobby decided he was really enjoying it. It felt like a sugar high; he felt buzzed and disoriented, but not in an unpleasant way. "You like it? Really?"

"It's beautiful," she hiccuped.

Having run out of options, Bobby had taken his best watch and smashed the guts out of it (his dad would be _furious_ ), and made it into a wrist locket, of sorts. Inside were pictures of the students before they'd all had to scatter, before the school had been blown up. Some of the people in the pictures no one had heard from since; but no news was good news, really, since dead mutants make headlines. Bobby had taken all of the photos himself, on his cell phone, over the past couple of years he'd attended the Institute.

"I figured, it helped me when my folks dragged me back home. Something to look at and remind me of, uh, being here. But... if you still want to go to Genosha or something, since it's under new management, well, you shouldn't, like, forget... us." Bobby thought that was a lame ending to what he was trying to say. He should have paid more attention in English.

Kitty shook her head. "Stupid. How could I forget all you guys?" She rubbed her face so her cheeks were scrubbed as red as her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice wasn't shaky anymore. "Besides, I'm not going anywhere. You're helpless without me, Drake." Kitty grinned her usual snarky smile, and Bobby knew he'd done right.

"So-- we should get back to the party?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should."

As soon as Kitty phased herself and Bobby through the wall, she'd snapped back into her regular self. "Drunk already, Kurt? You and Rogue are hitting the eggnog pretty hard, I can see you! Jean, _no one_ is going to eat that fruitcake!" But she hadn't let go of Bobby's hand yet, and so he concentrated on that, grinning like he was as drunk as the teleporter and his sister combined.

"Mistletoe!" Rogue cackled, pointing somewhere above Bobby's head. Her mission had actually been to tack mistletoe anywhere there was a square inch of space that people had to pass through, Bobby realized. The ceiling was practically carpeted in spiny-looking green leaves and ugly little white berries.

"Ooooooh. Kiss her, kiss her!"

"Go get her, tiger!"

"Looooove machiiiiiine!"

Bobby looked at Kitty, who was laughing along with all the others. He leaned in closer. He puckered his lips--

"Not on your life, Bobby!" Everyone within earshot burst out laughing, clutching their sides, the whole shebang. Bobby kind of wanted to be invisible again.

But then, as Kitty walked away, Bobby saw the Christmas lights glinting off of his watch on her wrist, and she gave him a wink and stuck out her tongue.

...Maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
